


ticklish Soundwave

by Anonmemeproject



Series: Transformers Anon Kink Meme - non sticky fills [11]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonmemeproject/pseuds/Anonmemeproject
Summary: Beachcomber/Soundwave - G1 - ticklish SoundwaveBy AnonymousSeptember 5 2009, 21:19:10 UTCOriginal request is here: http://community.livejournal.com/tfanonkink/491.html?thread=609003Link: https://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/1174.html?thread=681622#t681622Authors note: Not sure this is quite what OP had in mind, but hopefully (s)he likes it anyway. As usually happens, the RP ran away with us. Beachcomber done by this anon and Soundwave done by friend anon. ^_^
Relationships: Beachcomber/Soundwave
Series: Transformers Anon Kink Meme - non sticky fills [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542844
Kudos: 6





	ticklish Soundwave

**Author's Note:**

> Beachcomber/Soundwave - G1 - ticklish Soundwave  
> By Anonymous  
> September 5 2009, 21:19:10 UTC  
> Original request is here: http://community.livejournal.com/tfanonkink/491.html?thread=609003  
> Link: https://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/1174.html?thread=681622#t681622
> 
> Authors note: Not sure this is quite what OP had in mind, but hopefully (s)he likes it anyway. As usually happens, the RP ran away with us. Beachcomber done by this anon and Soundwave done by friend anon. ^_^

He moaned, a sound that would have sounded like pain, but for the almost desperate laughter that accompanied it. Soundwave was too far gone to even care, hands pressing his buttons harshly. He almost hated this... He couldn't stop laughing, and it was his OWN touch! There was a reason he was out in the middle of no-where, in a cave for Unmaker's sake! He only needed a little more stimulation, if it wasn't for the tickling of his touch, he would have overloaded already and he NEEDED…

Beachcomber frowned. There was that sound again, just on the edge of his hearing… Deciding that no, he wasn’t imagining it, the Autobot huffed and tried to discern its origin. It wasn’t behind him because there was naught but tall grass and a soft breeze there, and it wasn’t up because the skies were clear, so that only left down. Nodding in approval of his deduction skills, he leaned carefully over the edge of the small cliff he was sitting on and visually picked out what appeared to be the safest route down before taking it. 

Indeed the sound got louder and more distinct as he descended, and Beachcomber did his best to not make any noise as he dropped the last ten or so feet to the ground and, just to be on the safe side, drew his gun before moving toward the closest opening in the wall. It was odd, but it sounded like someone was laughing, but who would be all the way out here? It was quite a nice laugh though, the geologist had to admit…

He was shrieking with laughter by the time overload hit, and Soundwave just lay on the rocky ground, giggling and moaning and- Someone was there. Slag... maybe he was lucky and they were deaf. And hadn't been watching for long... It took a long moment before Soundwave was collected enough to look, and he frowned a little. He wasn't sure he knew the mech who was standing there.

At first, Beachcomber could only stare, fearing that his optics and audio receptors were both malfunctioning. But even after he had reset both and run a diagnostic on them, what he was hearing and seeing refused to change. Sprawled not ten paces from him was Soundwave, shaking with equal parts residual laughter and pleasure. 

“Um…” the blue and white mech said eloquently, fumbling for his gun when the Decepticon turned in his direction and only then realizing he had dropped it sometime after first catching sight of the larger mech. What was he supposed to do now? Primus only knew how Soundwave was going to react to his presence! He didn’t dare look away from the tape deck to find his dropped gun for fear that his distraction would be taken advantage of. And still, the sound of his laughter haunted Beachcomber, echoing in his audio receptors and tempting him to see what it took to make it happen again.

It was all over now. He would never live it down. This mech would tell his friends, and then they would mock him, and then the Decepticons would find out... Soundwave considered shooting the Autobot, but he couldn't quite make himself do that. Maybe it was the unaccustomed high, or just the fact that the Autobot hadn't shot HIM... Soundwave wondered if any of it had to do with the fact that the Autobot KNEW his secret now, and maybe he'd be willing... "You heard?" Soundwave couldn't look at the mech... Beachcomber, that was it.

The geologist couldn’t help but flinch at the words, though he tried to take comfort from the fact that he hadn’t been shot at just yet. He tried to ignore his own somewhat accusatory thoughts about why he hadn’t just fled while he had the chance as he nodded mutely. Of course he had heard, he had been hearing it for nearly five breems, the mini-bot didn’t say, optic band staring resolutely at Soundwave’s shoulder; a belated measure to watch the mech without having to make visual contact with him. What to say, what to say… It was impossible to tell what kind of response, or possibly reassurance?, the dark blue Decepticon was looking for.

No answer... unless one considered recriminatory thoughts to be an answer. As they were not directed at him, Soundwave didn't classify them as 'answering'. Sitting up, he kept his gaze on the lighter blue mech, finally asking, "Beachcomber's plans?" Maybe he could buy the mech off... He had never been much of a threat, odd to see him as one now, and if only Soundwave's processor would stop suggesting how it would feel to have another touch him... That was why he had been out here, to stop those thoughts!

“Plans?” Beachcomber echoed, startled into looking Soundwave in the faceplates (or, well, mask and visor) as he tried to come up with an answer. What did he mean? Probably, he wanted to know what Beachcomber intended to do with the information he had just acquired, but what good would it do to say that Soundwave could tickle himself senseless while self-servicing? It seemed a silly thing to blackmail someone over, and Beachcomber wasn’t the type to do so to begin with… “I’m not gonna… do anything, man?” he tried hesitantly, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Soundwave relaxed a little, and then realized he was disappointed. Of all the insane things. "Why?" He should leave, just stand up, hope not to wobble too much, and leave. Brush past the small mech, it would be easy, and never think of this again. "Many interested." He should NOT be sitting here quizzing Beachcomber on just why he wasn't going to tell, should not be giving him ideas.

“Why not? You’re, like… a Decepticon, man. In case you forgot.” The dune buggy couldn’t help but sound incredulous as he stared at the larger mech. Soundwave couldn’t possibly be suggesting that he should be interested! Admittedly, he WAS, but not to the extent that he would try to, well, DO something about it, especially not ask for any form of compensation for keeping this a secret or whatever the tape deck was thinking. “If you’re, like, expecting to be taken advantage of, you’re talking to the wrong mech.” Not that they should be talking at all, he really should be going while the going was still good. Soundwave was obviously worn out from his overload-giggle fit, Beachcomber’s likely only chance for escape was now, but the Decepticon was still just sitting there, practically inviting him to come over…

That was not what he had meant. Was it? No, he had simply meant to inform Beachcomber that a good number of people would be highly interested in finding out that he... that he was so ticklish that the lightest touch in the wrong place would have him doubled over in laughter. "What if... taking advantage desired?" Stupid vocalizer. Stupid good mood. Stupid Autobot, not shooting him or running away like a smart little Autobot. Stupid him, for wanting to be touched! Soundwave gave up and put his head in his hands. "Disregard. Beachcomber's assistance unnecessary." 'Assistance'? Oh, slag, like that wouldn't raise questions.

Beachcomber did a good impression of rapid blinking with his optic band as he tried to figure out what Soundwave seemed to want. Why would he want to be taken advantage of, and ‘assistance’? The geologist opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and closed it again so that he wouldn’t say anything stupid. What did one say in this situation? It was difficult enough to ignore the growing curiosity that seeing the unusual way the tape deck had responded to his own touch had caused without the mech making suggestive comments like that as well… 

Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask, even though Soundwave had already said he changed his mind. “What… what kind of assistance?” If it was to get more of that pleasant laughter, Beachcomber had the not-quite-sinking feeling that he could be easily persuaded to forget their factions for a little while to do so. It wasn’t like anyone would know, they were all alone… A worrying thought, but also kind of freeing. No one would know if he… tickled the enemy. It sounded too ridiculous to be believed anyway!

Soundwave thought he probably could have controlled himself if it hadn't been for Beachcomber. Beachcomber, and his thoughts... They had none of the cruel glee that a Decepticon would have had, just a kind of light-sparked innocence that made Soundwave feel safe. And Beachcomber even seemed to think that his laugher was nice. This time, Soundwave's statement was something he meant to say, not something that he could blame on a loose vocalizer. 

"Soundwave... untouched for eons. Decepticons... unsafe." They were, and Beachcomber knew it, or should know it, and oh, they really shouldn't forget the little fact that Soundwave himself was one of those unsafe Decepticons, and right now the telepath really didn't want it to matter. Even if all Beachcomber did was touch and tickle...

Untouched… In which ways? The Autobot felt like he could guess, and it only served to fuel his interest and the small, for now ignorable, flicker of desire. Soundwave wasn’t exactly bad looking, and if he was going to be touching him anyway… “Are you asking? Like, seriously asking, no fun–er, strange business?” Beachcomber asked, only vaguely horrified that he was considering doing anything with the larger mech at all. He was, and always would be, a scientist at spark, and the opportunity to explore new things (regardless of what they were) was an unstoppable force in his core programs, one that he didn’t even try to fight as he took a hesitant, wary step closer to Soundwave, weapons completely forgotten.

A low chuckle answered Beachcomber's careful revision, a very controlled sound, much different from the earlier laughter. "No odd business. Beachcomber safe. Soundwave... wanting." He really should have found someone... who? The Seekers? The camera spy? One of his own cassettes? Megatron himself? He'd been over this. But... Beachcomber? And here Soundwave had thought he had his physical urges under control.

As long as he wanted it… Beachcomber continued forward until he was standing before the larger mech and, after a slight pause, shifted to kneel between the slightly parted legs. How weird was it to be asked to touch an extremely ticklish person? he wondered. And how far would Soundwave want him to go? The geologist surmised that he would be stopped when the Decepticon didn’t want him to go any further and placed one of his hands against the other’s ankle joint, barely brushing to ‘test the waters’, so to speak.

That only got a twitch from Soundwave, though the telepath's vents hitched a little, more from surprise. He had forgotten what it was like to be touched out of battle, by anyone other than his cassettes. Even with them, he didn't allow much... Beachcomber was nervous. Far more nervous than he had to be. "Continue," Soundwave said, less than an order but more than a suggestion. "Beachcomber safe." Would return touches be unwelcome?

No negative reactions thus far, that was good. Soundwave was relatively clean for having been wiggling around in a sandy hole; his plating was smooth under Beachcomber’s fingers as the mini-bot traced up the seams of his lower leg to his knee joint. A belated thought of, ‘Will I be able to restrain Soundwave if he starts moving around a lot?’ made him pause, but only for a click. Then he was cautiously moving his second hand to join the first in caressing the tape deck’s knee joint, down his leg to his ankle joint, and back up. Unsure if his, for lack of a better word, companion meant that he was safe with Beachcomber or Beachcomber was safe with him, the dune buggy chose to ignore the comment altogether, instead steeling himself and asking, “Anything in particular you want?”

The knee joint brought giggles and unexpected arousal. Soundwave knew his body very well, and knew that was not one of his hot spots, and was busy mentally beating himself up for letting things get this bad, even though he had no idea what else he could have done, when Beachcomber's question interrupted. "Want... Unsure. Soundwave untouched for eons." He was repeating himself, Soundwave knew, but... it would explain why he had forgotten what one did with another person. There was a brief pause before he asked, "Opinion on Soundwave's laughter?" Because they were going to be hearing rather a lot of it, Soundwave suspected, and he would hate to think that Beachcomber merely tolerated it for his sake.

“That’s not very helpful,” Beachcomber muttered, then decided that he would just go with the ‘trial and error’ method until Soundwave thought of something he wanted. The question surprised the geologist but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “It’s nice. Different from most I’ve ever heard, but I guess I can say the same for the rest of your vocalizations as well…” Beachcomber smiled unconsciously and leaned forward, bracing himself on one hand to stroke his way up the dark blue mech’s thigh. Nice was an understatement. In another time, Soundwave’s laughter could have been greatly admired and appreciated… It was an extremely pleasant sound, one Beachcomber would greatly enjoy hearing, preferably often but even he was not that unrealistic in his hopes.

Was Beachcomber trying to be 'inappropriate'? He had, after all, seen Soundwave touching the very buttons that he was now heading towards... The Autobot could have just as easily surmised that they were very ticklish, though, and if he liked the sounds... Soundwave groaned though his giggles, wishing his chassis could just make up its mind over how he was supposed to feel. Leaning back on one elbow, Soundwave hesitantly ran his hand over Beachcomber's shoulder. He had rarely touched others, after all, for fear they would take it as an invitation. "Most... dislike Soundwave's vocalizations." He wanted to talk, to share... Hard to do between his giggling and anticipation! 

“Can’t imagine why not. Nothing wrong with being a little exotic…” ‘Am I supposed to take him touching me as a request for something more? He only asked to be touched, he wasn’t specific beyond that,’ the mini-bot thought, shyly leaning into the contact. Strange that it was so easy to do so, regardless that it was the Decepticon Third in Command doing the touching… It was the kind of thing that only happened in silly daydreams, but Beachcomber was almost certain he wasn’t hallucinating.

Even so, he was hesitant to venture further and so lingered at the mech’s thighs, taking his time over spots that garnered greater reactions from his companion and flitting playfully across less sensitive seams and wiring. As he touched and teased, Beachcomber drank in the mixed loud and soft sounds of mirth spilling from Soundwave’s vocalizer, and was struck with a thought. 

“Does your face guard come off or retract?” It was possible, of course, that the tape deck was one of those models that had no actual mouth components, but Beachcomber sort of hoped that wasn’t the case, and that Soundwave would be willing to show him his face. Would his smile be as nice as his laugh?

The mech was a TEASE! Taunting him... "H-higher...!" the plea was drug out, long and shaky, as Soundwave answered Beachcomber's question by sliding his mask away. It was fairly common knowledge that the telepath had an actual face, so there was no real risk to showing Beachcomber. Maybe the mech would like what he saw, and then... then what? Soundwave wasn't even sure what he wanted from the Autobot. 

Beachcomber nearly forgot that Soundwave had spoken as he took in the surprisingly smooth angles of the tape deck’s face plates. Not the most beautiful mech in the universe, but definitely good-looking nonetheless. The urge to just climb up the larger frame to touch those delicately parted dermas was hard to resist, but when he moved to do so, his fingers happened across Soundwave’s buttons and his attention was instantly diverted with no little help from the peal of static-laced laughter the action caused.

Surprise fought with the odd sense of pleasure he got from being able to draw that sound from Soundwave, and the geologist found himself asking, “Why are you so sensitive?” before his mind switched tracks and continued with, “It’s a shame you’ve got your face covered most of the time. You have a nice smile,” without skipping a beat. No doubt he was making it difficult for the Decepticon to answer, what with his hands apparently having a mind of their own and thoroughly mapping out the other’s pelvic plating and buttons, but the Autobot couldn’t find a good reason to stop and so he didn’t.

Soundwave flopped onto the floor, writhing and laughing freely. Laughing and moaning, because the touch really, really felt good, and it would be even better if he wasn't so slagging ticklish. "Sound. Vibration. All same... S- soundwave hear with- whole chassis!" Which had the side-effect of making him really sensitive, and for some reason known only to Primus, that meant he was ticklish. And he couldn't stop laughing, musical shrieks of unaccustomedly honest mirth. 

“Really?” That was interesting. He had never heard of someone like that before! Perhaps he would mention it to Perceptor later, the microscope might know something… That thought was quickly pushed aside as Soundwave’s laughter and… moans, yes, those were definitely moans, increased in pitch, and Beachcomber was forced to scoot up between the larger mech’s thighs so he could get better leverage lest he be bucked off. Fascinated by the reactions he was garnering, the mini-bot – rather boldly, in his opinion – pressed Soundwave’s waist down and slid his glossa against one of the buttons, pressing it in slightly before withdrawing again. Beachcomber wasn’t sure if that was overstepping a boundary, but didn’t much care as his fingers continued their assault, leaving the blue and white mech free to watch and listen to his supposed-enemy enjoying himself once again.

"Aah...! Mm..." Soundwave tried to bring his thoughts together enough to say something. Beg, probably. Mercy or more, he wasn't sure. Primus and the Unmaker both, this was torture, pure and simple, and he would have said almost anything to make it stop... if he wasn't enjoying the touch so much. He arched up, hands tracing over Beachcomber, feeling the odd texture of tires beneath his hands. "M- More...! Ah, a-ah...! 'Comber, more! Oh... mercy...!"

Ooh, he could easily come to love hearing his name said like that, so high and needy and full of pleasure and laughter… Such beautiful, perfectly tuned laughter that made him want to muffle it with his own dermas and feel it vibrating against the sensory nodes lining his oral cavity! Soon, perhaps, the dune buggy thought, but right now he was preoccupied with showing the Decepticon no mercy at all, rubbing and pressing the buttons relentlessly with one hand while the other reached upward to the seams in his ‘victim’s’ side. The barely-there flicker of arousal was growing with every strangled gasp and cry that Soundwave emitted, and Beachcomber took it in stride, twitching his wheels into the large hands wrapped around them and groaning lowly in contrast to the higher, stronger sounds the tape deck made.

If he wanted the kiss so badly, Soundwave really wished Beachcomber would just take it, and stop teasing him with the image of how nice it would feel! He was shaking with desire, laughing helplessly and clinging to the smaller mech, squeezing the tire, and generally looking as wanton as he was feeling right now. "Beach~ comber! Primus' sake... mercy? Don't- stop..." It felt odd, risqué, to smile and know someone saw it.

“Not gonna stop,” the geologist murmured, not sure and not really caring if his words were heard as he moved a little further up Soundwave’s chassis to rub at small panel covering the mech’s primary interface array. That area was always sensitive, and he was curious at just how much mixed giggling and moaning he could draw from the communications specialist by touching it. Perhaps with his glossa? Without really thinking about it, Beachcomber moved until he was straddling the shaking mech’s torso and could get his mouth on the cover, kissing it chastely and then licking it, wordlessly urging Soundwave to open up so that he could get at the connectors beneath. Maybe he would ask if he could plug in later, too, if the Decepticon seemed to want that…

Soundwave screamed, bucking up and moving to HOLD Beachcomber there, oh, don't let him move! Oh, he should open it, would Beachcomber like that? Would it make him stay? Soundwave never stopped laughing, inordinately pleased that his... well, his lover, probably, liked the sounds. He'd never really been with someone who truly liked his laughter... "M-more..." Would the Autobot mind if they were lovers? Mind if they plugged... "Oh! Beachcomber, please! Want- need...!"

Beachcomber’s engine revved hard in approval as the panel clicked open and he flicked his glossa over the insides, tracing the seams and plug and dipping into the shallow port, all while soaking up the staticky, helpless laughter escaping Soundwave. It sounded so good…! That a mech like Soundwave could produce such a pure, lovely sound would never cease to amaze and entrance Beachcomber, he knew, and he was determined to hear it for as long as possible. The fact that he could reduce such a powerful mech to begging like this was also a wonder that the mini-bot greedily drank in, even as he pulled his mouth away from his current focus and rubbed his fingers inside instead, moving up the dark blue frame further still to place a possibly unnecessarily gentle kiss on Soundwave’s cheek. “May I, mm, plug in?” he asked, only vaguely surprised at the rough quality his normally mellow tones had taken on.

May he? Oh, would he, please! "Yes... 'Comber, please. Plug, overload, need... Soundwave need!" He almost sounded like those Dinobots, but Soundwave was so far beyond caring about that. The sweet and gentle and totally sadistic Autobot wanted to plug into him, and THAT hadn't happened in far more eons than Soundwave ever wanted to contemplate, let alone remember. His only regret was that he couldn't return the touches to Beachcomber as nicely as he wanted to, but plugging in would nicely fix that problem, and by the way, how had he never realized how good Beachcomber sounded?

Beachcomber smiled in satisfaction and wasted no more time teasing Soundwave or himself. He snapped his own cover open and gently pulled Soundwave’s data plug out of its coil, sliding the plug into his port with a nearly inaudible snick before repeating the action in reverse and moaning unabashedly when the connection was established. “Primus, Soundw-wave!” So intense! Almost too intense, the emotions echoing across the link; the arousal and helplessly giddy feelings flooded him and he did nothing to stop it, encouraged it by mouthing at the larger mech’s neck cables and stroking the broad planes of his shoulders, legs tightening convulsively around his partner’s torso as the sensations flowed back to him.

Soundwave writhed and shrieked, still laughing but moaning far more now, arching into the touches, pulling Beachcomber close. He had forgotten. Unmaker damn him, how he had forgotten. He could feel and hear, and he was going to overload soon, and he could only squirm and moan and send as much of his pleasure through the data-link and into Beachcomber, even as that made Soundwave writhe even more from the echoes of echoes. Sounds were bouncing around the cave so much that it almost sounded like a full Seeker orgy, a thought that made Soundwave smile, and oh yes, Beachcomber had wanted a kiss?

It was to Beachcomber’s surprise (and no little enjoyment) when Soundwave somehow managed to pull him up and all but crushed their mouths together, drawing a harsh moan from them both. Primus, but the dark blue mech’s passion was as intoxicating as his laugh, so wonderful and strong and absolutely PERFECT and Beachcomber wasn’t sure he would be able to stand it but he didn’t even think of trying to stop it. There was so much and he wanted it all!

He opened his mouth and groaned in satisfaction when the larger mech’s glossa slid in, filling in a way that probably should have been uncomfortable but instead felt so, so good… And still, Soundwave laughed, sensation overlapping sensation as they drew ever closer to their peak. Beachcomber hungrily sucked and licked at the tape deck’s glossa, sating himself with the taste of the hot metal and oral lubricants as his sensitized nodes sang with the feel of the other mech’s pleasure and mirth. Just a little more, he thought, just a little more and Soundwave would overload, and how lovely would he sound? How lovely would he feel? Determined to experience it firsthand, the geologist dug his fingers into the largest seams he could reach and manipulated whatever he could touch while he ground his chassis against Soundwave’s glass.

A rush of pleasure, and sensation, sensation, so much sensation, and Soundwave's shrieks might have brought the roof down, except that Beachcomber's mouth was covering his own, the pretty little Autobot was sucking on his glossa, and Soundwave's world was heat and mirth and pleasure and another clinging to his chassis as harshly as he was clinging to the other. It was a very long time later that he could even begin to think in a nearly coherent pattern. 

When he started to feel his companion stirring, the dune buggy gave a soft murmur of content and gently nuzzled the gray cheek he was resting against. He didn’t quite have the energy or the will to get up yet, but it felt good to just rest together so he couldn’t bring himself to lament either fact. “How d’you feel?” Beachcomber asked at length as he fiddled with their connectors, softly so as not to disturb the calm, serene atmosphere. 

"Feel..." It was an echo more than an answer. Soundwave wasn't sure how he felt, beyond 'really fragging good'. Would Beachcomber feel weird if Soundwave thanked him? "Thank- Soundwave thanks Beachcomber. Enjoyed." 'Enjoyed', was that all he was going to say? "Soundwave enjoyed very much. ...Did Beachcomber?" And what if he had? It wasn't like they could do this again... Such a tragedy, that. 

“Mm… You’re welcome,” the mini-bot replied, still absently nuzzling Soundwave’s cheek. “I really enjoyed it too. It was… soothing.” Among other things, but now that overload had faded into a more manageable warm ache, everything just felt comfortable, like a quiet evening watching the stars and allowing the day’s troubles to just… fade away. No war, no factions, no anything but him and Soundwave and Soundwave’s sweet laughter and this little cave out in the middle of nowhere. It would probably be too much to ask for a repeat at a later date, but that didn’t stop Beachcomber from doing so, pressing his face into the communications specialist’s shoulder to keep from having to look at him as he waited for the inevitable ‘no’.

Soothing... that was a good word for it, really. He was... more content than he thought he had ever been, and Beachcomber had just asked... They shouldn't. Soundwave could think of a dozen reasons why they shouldn't, and he could hear a half dozen other in Beachcomber's thoughts. "Yes. If Beachcomber is willing to take risk. Every third orn? Here?" He would have to tell his cassettes to be easy on this mech... Logistics could be dealt with later.

Well, at least he had asked… wait, what? Beachcomber sat up and stared at the dark blue mech for a moment, trying to grasp the fact that he apparently wanted to and having extreme difficulty. “Here, every third orn,” he agreed after a likely too long pause, nodding dumbly. He was willing to risk it; no one would notice if he took a day to himself every so often since he already did it, and such a length of time between meetings would ensure that no one caught on. As long as he wasn’t followed… It was doable. Soundwave had more to fear in getting caught than he did, but the mech wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think he would be able, right?

"Soundwave safe," the Decepticon reassured softly, tilting Beachcomber's head up for another kiss. They really ought to separate... he had been here for a long time, after all. Someone would... no. No one would wonder where he was or what he was doing. Who would think that Soundwave might be doing something the Decepticons wouldn't want him to do? "... Why?"

“Why?” Why what? There were a whole lot of ‘why’s to be asked… After a click of contemplation, Beachcomber shrugged. “Why not? I don’t really approve of all this war business to begin with, and sometimes, it really is better for your mental and physical health to be a little selfish, y’know? We’re not actually HURTING anything…” That argument wouldn’t stand a chance in a court martial, but Beachcomber didn’t care as he lightly kissed Soundwave’s bottom lip, enjoying the feel of the warm, pliable metal for a moment before sitting up again. 

“It’s getting late though…” he mumbled regretfully, fingers tracing idle patterns on Soundwave’s chest plates and glass. Only the knowledge of being able to meet up again gave him the will power to climb unsteadily off of the larger mech. The cables in his legs protested the ability to close, having gotten so used to being spread, but he ignored that as he wobbled to his feet and leaned against the nearest wall. 

He giggled as the digits traced against him, and mewled unhappily as Beachcomber crawled off of him. The Autobot had a point, though... "Soundwave... very grateful." He didn't add that he would miss Beachcomber. Better to admit that he HAD missed him, in three orns time. Standing left him feeling uncomfortably as though he were looming over the smaller mech, and he was every bit as unsteady as Beachcomber. At least flight was easy... With a final stroke to the Autobot, Soundwave left.

Beachcomber waved a little as Soundwave flew off, then set himself to the task of climbing back up the cliff so that he could return to the Ark. Already he was impatient for their next meeting, even though it hadn’t been but a couple of breems since they separated… The mini-bot contented himself with the recordings he had made of his new… lover’s? laughter until then, and practically flew down the freeway to that cliff on the promised meeting day, all but tackling Soundwave when he found him there in the cave and waiting.


End file.
